He took a refreshing cold shower and felt thoroughly satisfied. Although the cold made him shiver, the sticky feeling and the smell of sweat were gone, leaving him feeling light and refreshed.

The three of them splashed about in the shallow pool trying to catch fish, but the results were less than satisfactory.

Zhang Shuguang noticed that the other two were quite skilled at catching fish—at least three or four times when they bent down, they managed to scoop one up.

In contrast, he had bent over so many times his back was nearly stiff, yet he’d only managed to catch one.

“I give up!” Zhang Shuguang tapped his aching back and waded toward the shore. “I’ll just go fishing instead.”

“Hahahaha, you might be better at fishing, but when it comes to catching fish, I’m the expert!” Li held up the floundering fish in his hand, looking quite smug.

A-Si also came ashore and tied his leather skirt around his waist. “How do you fish? Let me take a look.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded toward the giant bamboo that was visible just by looking up. “I need to find a bamboo branch and dig up some earthworms.”

“Dig up earthworms?” A-Si looked surprised. “Those squishy worms are so gross.”

“It’s more than just gross—last time he actually tore one apart with his bare hands.” Li puckered his lips, his face full of disgust.

Zhang Shuguang snorted derisively and shot back, “But when the fish was caught, I didn’t see you turn your nose up at it or eat any less.”

Li chuckled, “Fish is delicious! Quick, help me catch a few sweetfish—I haven’t caught any yet.”

A-Si rarely ate fish either and didn’t know how to cook it; he found the fishy smell too strong and hated all the bones.

But seeing the unmasked delight on Li’s face—it was clear he loved it—he started to feel a little excited too.

The three of them headed to the bamboo grove together. Zhang Shuguang noticed that the spot where he’d planted cabbage earlier hadn’t changed at all. He silently scolded himself for being impatient—it had only just been planted; what change could there be?

“Shuguang, isn’t this the bamboo shoot you were talking about?” Li called out from the side, pointing to a small triangular shape at his feet.

Zhang Shuguang nodded. “Go ahead and dig it up, but take it slow—these things break easily.”

Li crouched down eagerly and began digging, first scooping away the soil with his hands, then using a stone to dig deeper. Suddenly, there was a crisp snap—the shoot had snapped.

He froze, then let out a wail, his voice filled with utter disappointment.

“I was being so careful—how did it break!”

“It broke, so it broke. Dig a few more, and you’ll get the hang of it.” Zhang Shuguang had also broken one, but it had snapped closer to the root, so it was still a pretty big one.

He walked a bit further, dug up ten to complete his task, then continued digging and packed another ten into his backpack.

“Shuguang, let’s go fishing!” Li, who had been longing to bring sweetfish back for his mom, couldn’t wait any longer after digging up four bamboo shoots. He shook the mud off his hands and ran over to Zhang Shuguang: “I’m going to break off some bamboo branches.”

A-Si, having dug up none, rubbed the mud off his hands and asked Zhang Shuguang, “How do we eat these?”

“Peel off the outer skin and eat the inside. Soak them in water, boil them, then slice them thinly and stir-fry them with some meat,” he said, then added, “It’s best to first render some fat from fatty game meat and use that oil for stir-frying.”

A-Si immediately recalled the aroma that had wafted through the entire tribe the night before, so enticing that it had kept everyone awake. “Is that what you made last night?”

Zhang Shuguang nodded. “That’s right. If you don’t have enough fatty meat to render oil, you can trade something with me.” He grinned and winked. “I’ve got a whole basinful of oil over here.”

A-Si asked with a chuckle, “What do you want?”

“Seeds.” After spending just a few hours together, Zhang Shuguang had come to realize how knowledgeable A-Si was. At the very least, when it came to useful crops, A-Si definitely knew more than the indigenous people of the Cliff Shore Tribe. And most importantly, he knew how to farm—in this strange world, people who could farm were few and far between.

He was very interested in the tribe where A-Si had originally lived, especially the edible plants that grew there.

A-Si raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a hint of surprise in her eyes. “How did you know I had seeds?”

“Just a hunch,” Zhang Shuguang shrugged. “Wanna trade?”

A-Si sighed, sounding a bit troubled. “I don’t really care much about food.” The implication was clear: he didn’t want to trade the seeds for oil.

This time, it was Zhang Shuguang’s turn to be surprised.

But he wasn’t trying to make things difficult for him. Since he didn’t want to trade the seeds, they could trade labor instead.

Finding a partner who knew how to farm was far better than doing it alone.

He explained his idea to A-Si. After thinking it over, A-Si nodded. “Alright, I’ll farm with you. But I’ve tried planting seeds I found near the tribe before, and they all failed.”

Zhang Shuguang shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ve got plenty of seeds anyway. If they fail, we’ll just try again. I’ve even named my plot the ‘Experimental Field.’ Let’s experiment slowly—who knows, maybe one of them will work!”

In truth, he still had his doubts about whether he could actually grow anything, but he had complete confidence in the seeds provided by the system.

The two hit it off immediately. Zhang Shuguang said generously to A-Si, “When we get back, bring a bowl to hold the oil.”

A-Si nodded with a smile.

The three returned from the bamboo grove to the shallow pond. Zhang Shuguang started fishing with earthworms he’d dug up while harvesting bamboo shoots. A-Si praised him from the side, “You’re really a master angler.”

Zhang Shuguang laughed, “No one comes here to catch fish all year round. Suddenly, someone’s feeding them, so of course they’ll fight over it. You can do it too—just keep your hand steady and move quickly.”

A-Si glanced at Li beside him. Li casually handed him a bamboo stick and two fat, flesh-colored earthworms writhing on it.

A-Si, who had been eager to try, was instantly repulsed and backed away repeatedly. “Stay away from me, Li!”

Li held the fat earthworm between his fingers, his expression a mix of disgust, revulsion, and amusement—a blend that made him look slightly ferocious.

Zhang Shuguang shook his head in silence, letting the two of them run and chase each other off to the side.

“Xiao Cai, Xiao Cai.”

Xiao Cai: “Master, I’m here.”

Zhang Shuguang: “What time is it?”

Xiao Cai: “Earth time: 3:17:32 p.m.”

Zhang Shuguang roughly calculated how long it would take them to dig up the potatoes. It should be fine; they could make it back to the tribe before sunset. He wondered how that little red bird was doing.

The little red bird had already woken up and was staring intently at its natural enemy with its little black beady eyes.

It’s no exaggeration to say that a cat is a bird’s natural enemy.

Nai Dou curiously moved closer, sniffed gently, and rubbed her wet nose against the bird’s wing. “Meow?”

The little red bird wiggled her tiny paws and hopped two steps to the side, “Cheep cheep cheep!!!”

Nai Dou’s eyes lit up even more at the sound; she arched her back and inched forward, “Meow meow meow~~~.”

“Cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep!!!” The little red bird tried to flap her wings to fly away, but one of her wings was pinned down. She flapped twice, her body tilted, and she fell right over.

“Cheep cheep cheep?”

“Meow!~” Nai Dou leaped up, pounced on her, pinned her down, and lowered her head to start grooming her.

The little red bird chirped and tried to dodge with her little head, but she still ended up getting licked all wet.

Ying watched them with a loving expression, reaching out to gently tap Nai Dou’s forehead and reminding her softly, “Nai Dou, don’t pin your sister’s wing down—it’ll hurt her.”

Nai Dou shifted his body slightly, and the intensity of his grooming eased considerably.

The little red bird lay down on the stone slab bed, looking utterly dejected, her tiny body twitching with each lick from Nai Dou.

Ying smiled as she stroked Nai Dou’s back fur, then stood up to prepare food for them.

Meanwhile, Zhang Shuguang and his two companions arrived at the potato patch and found that the tribe members had already dug up more than half of the potatoes. The ground was a mess of holes and ruts, littered with discarded leaves.

“They sure worked fast,” Li said, kicking aside the leaves and stems blocking his path. “There’s not much left.”

“If you know potatoes are good, you’re bound to dig up more—there’s nothing wrong with that.” Zhang Shuguang didn’t think the tribe’s actions were problematic; it was already quite good that they hadn’t dug up everything. “Let’s dig up what’s left. The weather’s getting hotter, and more sprouts will grow.”

Li and A-Si both agreed with his suggestion. The three said no more and focused on digging up the potatoes.

They worked until the sun was about to set before stopping. Zhang Shuguang wiped the sweat from his face. “That shower was a waste.”

“Let’s head back,” A-Si said, brushing the dirt off his hands and straightening up. “I’m exhausted.”

Li’s head drooped as he yawned. “I’m starving and worn out.”

Zhang Shuguang was feeling hungry too. They’d eaten grilled fish earlier at the shallow pool, but after working so hard all this time, that little bit of fish had long since been digested.

“Come on, let’s go back. I’ll teach you how to roast a duck.”

“The hunting party’s back! They brought back a ton of meat!” Just as the three of them reached the path on the backside of the mountain, they heard loud shouts from the front.

Zhang Shuguang stopped in his tracks and looked up at the towering peak.

“Did I just hear someone shout that the hunting party is back?”

Li Hun’s exhaustion vanished instantly; he slung his leather bag over his shoulder and ran up the mountain. “Right, you heard correctly. Hurry, hurry!”

A-Si looked at Zhang Shuguang, who raised an eyebrow. Let’s go.

Mang Jiu and the others dragged the massive moa carcass to a spot not far from the tribe and stopped. Even from inside the tribe, through the tall wooden fence, one could see its back, which was as large as a small mountain, and the people in the tribe erupted in cheers.

“What a huge, massive beast!”

“Is that a terror bird? I’ve seen one from a distance before, but I ran away.”

“My goodness, Mang Jiu and his group are truly incredible. Look, the flesh on this terror bird’s body has collapsed—Mang Jiu must have crushed its bones.”

“Mang Jiu is truly amazing; he’s the tribe’s true number one warrior!”

“Mang Jiu! Mang Jiu!”

“The number one warrior!”

This was also Xiong Kui’s first time seeing a dead terror bird. When he was young and hunting with the other Beastmen of the tribe, he had encountered a terror bird once. That experience had left him filled with terror; nearly all the Beastmen in their group had been killed, and those who escaped were covered in scars. The scar on Xiong Kui’s back—running diagonally from his shoulder to his side—was a remnant of that time.

Mang Jiu was surrounded by the excited crowd, but his expression remained cold; he saw nothing to be happy about. He glanced around but did not spot the figure he was looking for.

His brows furrowed involuntarily, and Mang Jiu’s expression grew even colder.

“Brother Jiu!!” His tone brimmed with unhidden joy, Tianlu pushed aside the people blocking his view, squeezed into the circle, and rushed straight toward Mang Jiu. “Brother Jiu~~ You’re finally back! I was so worried about you!”

Mang Jiu raised his hand to block him, his face expressionless.

Tian Lu didn’t care what his attitude was; he just smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling with joy. It didn’t matter that Nine Brother didn’t hug him—Nine Brother had touched him with his hand!

“Nine Brother~ You’re so amazing, you actually managed to kill such a huge terror bird!”

The people around them stepped aside as if watching a show, thoughtfully making room for the two.

Others whispered among themselves, teasingly remarking, “Tianlu really does have his heart set on Mang Jiu. Just look at how happy he was just now.”

“It’s more than just having his heart set on him—he’s practically ready to lay eggs for Mang Jiu!”

“Mang Jiu doesn’t seem to be interested in him.”

“Mang Jiu already has a Sub-Beastman, doesn’t he? Shuguang is pretty good.”

“I don’t really like Tianlu. Look at his personality—he’s all over everyone, and he cries more easily than even me, who doesn’t have any eggs.”

This remark immediately struck a chord with the nearby Sub-Beastmen, reminding them of Tianlu’s habit of looking all pouty and getting red-eyed at the slightest provocation, whether he actually had a reason or not.

Seeing how enthusiastic Tianlu was, the Beastmen started teasing Mang Jiu.

“Hurry up and take him back to lay an egg!”

“Mang Jiu, what are you waiting for!”

“If you ask me, Tianlu’s actually pretty great—good-looking, well-behaved, and clingy. Just listening to him talk is so soothing.”

The crowd burst into laughter, but the Sub-Beastmen rolled their eyes fiercely.

“Shuguang!”

Someone called out, and the crowd whipped their heads up in unison, all gazing toward the edge of the fourth-level cliff.

Zhang Shuguang set down the leather bag he was carrying and placed the fish he was holding into an empty wooden basin nearby. Hearing someone call his name, he craned his neck and squinted down. He couldn’t make out who it was, so he simply raised his hand to wave and called back, “Hey!”

To be honest, he really couldn’t make out their faces from such a distance. It wasn’t because he was nearsighted, but because his eyesight wasn’t as sharp as the Beastmen’s. Even Sub-Beastmen—whose blood carried the lineage of Beastmen—were far superior to Zhang Shuguang, a mere human, in certain respects.

No!

The smile vanished from Zhang Shuguang’s face in an instant, and he turned and hurried into the cave.

“Xiao Cai!”

Xiao Cai: “Master, I’m here.”

Zhang Shuguang crouched on the ground, rummaging through the potatoes in his bag, pretending to be busy, while his mind raced with anxiety and frustration: “This body is human, not a Sub-Beastman!”

Xiao Cai: “…Master, what do you want to ask?”

Zhang Shuguang: “This body… is mine. It’s the real me, exactly as I am.”

He had always thought the scar on his waist was just a coincidence that resembled his own, but now it seemed that wasn’t the case—this was him. How else could he explain the identical appearance, the identical scar, and the gaze that wasn’t as sharp as the others in the tribe? These details were too much of a coincidence—if there were too many coincidences, it wasn’t a coincidence at all; it was a conspiracy!

“You said I was a soul-transferred body—you lied to me.” Zhang Shuguang grew increasingly panicked as he thought about it, his heart pounding wildly.

Xiao Cai: “……”

Zhang Shuguang took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What else have you lied to me about?”

Xiao Cai: “……”

Zhang Shuguang: “Every time I ask about something serious, you pretend to crash. Who would believe you when you say you’re not a ghost!”

Xiao Cai: “Waaah, Master, I can’t tell you!”

Zhang Shuguang: “Shut down!”

Xiao Cai: “Master, please calm down. We still have to complete the mission!”

Zhang Shuguang: “Screw that. Shut down. I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

Xiao Cai switched to speech bubble mode, and a virtual screen appeared before Zhang Shuguang: “…Alright, Master. Please don’t keep me shut down like this—I’ll die.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Shut down.”

Xiao Cai’s speech bubble: “Okay, Master. Sniffle sniffle.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Get lost!”

The virtual screen before him vanished, and Zhang Shuguang slammed the potato he was holding onto the ground.

Li cautiously approached him and soothed him in a soft voice: “Um, Shuguang, don’t be angry. Mang Jiu definitely has nothing to do with this. It’s all Tianlu who’s been pestering Mang Jiu.”

Zhang Shuguang froze for a moment, turned to look at him, his eyes full of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Li gave a meaningful glance at A-Si standing nearby. Say something, I’m panicking.

A-Si was also quite surprised by Zhang Shuguang’s sudden outburst. He didn’t really believe the rumors circulating in the tribe—that the Sub-Beastman Mang Jiu had brought back was meant to be a mate. After all, no matter how he looked at it, Shuguang didn’t seem like the type to depend on others.

But now, A-Si felt he’d been a bit too quick to judge.

If he didn’t care about Mang Jiu, why would he get angry—and lose his temper so badly—just from seeing Tian Lu with Mang Jiu?

“Mang Jiu treats you differently from others.” He wasn’t very good at comforting people, so he could only state the facts.

Only then did Zhang Shuguang realize that his earlier behavior had led them to misunderstand.

“I wasn’t angry because of Mang Jiu. Never mind. Who is this Tianlu you’re talking about?”

Li observed his reaction. Seeing that his expression had calmed down, he patted his chest and exhaled. “Your sudden outburst really scared me.”

Zhang Shuguang’s mouth twitched. He thought to himself, I just threw a potato, and you turned pale—you’ve got the nerves of a mouse.

“Tianlu is the second Sub-Beastman Mang Jiu rescued; he’s from the Western Continent.”

Zhang Shuguang went, “Oh,” seeing nothing wrong with that.

“Wars break out frequently on the Western Continent, so most of the Beastmen there can fly.” As I knew a lot and explained to him, “Most of the Beastmen there belong to the Winged Clan.”

“The Winged Clan are the ones who can fly, right? Like Ying Liu and his group.”

Zhang Shuguang took the bamboo shoots out of his leather bag and placed them by the wall, then went back to turn the gugu chicken eggs that had been wrapped in leather, so they could be heated more evenly.

A-Si walked over, propped his hands on his knees, and watched him turn the eggs one by one, asking curiously, “What are you doing?”

“I want to hatch them and raise them to lay eggs.” After turning the last egg, Zhang Shuguang reached under the leather to check the temperature, then felt the stone wall to make sure it wasn’t too hot and wouldn’t cook the eggs. Only then did he pull his hand back. “Eggs are very nutritious. Eating more eggs is good for your health.”

A-Si nodded slowly. “Will they survive?”

“Who knows,” Zhang Shuguang shrugged. “If they don’t hatch, I’ll just go pick up some more eggs and keep trying.”

A-Si smiled lightly and nodded. “You’re right.”

“They’re dividing the meat! Come quickly, they’re dividing the meat!”

Li ran to the edge of the cliff to look and saw that they had already begun distributing the meat outside the tribe. That moa was simply too huge; aside from its inedible scales, the meat alone would be enough to feed the tribe for a long time.

“There’s too much meat. What are we going to do?” Though those who received meat were excited, their excitement soon gave way to worry.

“Let the Beastmen transform into their beast forms and eat it,” someone suggested.

“That’s impossible. It’s a tribal rule. If they eat all the meat, what will we do when there’s none left? The chief definitely won’t agree.”

“With this much meat, the chief must have a solution.”

“What solution could there be? We’ve faced this before—meat spoiling because there was too much. Hurry back and cook the meat to eat; eat as much as you can. We won’t need to go foraging for a while.”

Xiong Kui spoke up then: “There’s too much terror bird  meat; it won’t keep for long. The Beastmen who’ve been given meat can choose to transform into their beast forms and eat it all, but after that, no more meat will be distributed to you. Until the tribe’s next hunt, if you’re hungry, find your own food.”

The Beastmen all grunted in response, tearing off their hides one after another to transform into giant beasts, devouring their allotted meat in just a few bites.

They’d eat their fill first and worry about the rest later; at worst, they’d just take their turn hunting later. They did this all the time anyway.

Just as Mang Jiu had seen Zhang Shuguang turn and enter the cave, he shoved Tianlu aside, hoisted a male giant boar beast onto his shoulders, and headed straight up the mountain.

“Brother Jiu~!” Tianlu pouted and stomped his foot.

“Tianlu, stop calling him ‘Brother Jiu.’ Go grab some meat and get back to eating.” A Sub-Beastman living in Lin Jin’s cave alongside him tugged at his sleeve.

Tianlu snorted, pursed his lips, and couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mang Jiu’s towering back—as if he were torturing himself. Even if he saw a scene that would break his heart, he would keep staring.

But there wasn’t really anything heartbreaking to see. Due to the angle, all he could see was Mang Jiu placing the male giant boar beast at the cave entrance, using its massive body to block most of the view; he couldn’t see any further.

Tian Lu bit his lip and reluctantly went to stand in line to collect his meat.

In front of the cave, Mang Jiu looked at all the extra items and could no longer suppress the growing confusion in his eyes.

Hadn’t he only been gone for three days?

How could his old lair have changed so much just from his return?

A row of dried fish hanging there?

Two huge bowls of meat?

A large bowl of something white and greasy, looking slippery and soft—what was that?

A huge basin of chopped-up offal giving off a pungent smell?

None of that was the main issue, though. He actually saw his brother’s hide tied to the wall. What on earth was going on?

Mang Jiu felt like he’d wasted the past twenty snow seasons; he simply couldn’t make sense of any of this.

Inside the cave, three men squatting head-to-head, plucking duck feathers, heard the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground. They turned their heads and saw a tall man standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light.

Li jumped up as if electrocuted, not even bothering to drop the duck feathers in his hands. He grabbed A-Si’s arm and pulled him toward the exit. “Let’s go get the meat. Hurry, hurry!”

A-Si was yanked so hard he plopped down onto the ground. “Can’t you be a little gentler?”

Li glanced back at Mang Jiu, who was standing at the cave entrance and didn’t seem to have any intention of coming in. “Hurry up, hurry up! Don’t dawdle!”

A-Si sighed and pushed himself up from the ground. He could tell right away that Li was scared of Mang Jiu.

The two of them stepped out of the cave. A-Si gave Mang Jiu a friendly smile and a nod, while Li merely called out “Brother Mang Jiu” in a hurry before taking off running.

How terrifying!

Although Mang Jiu was a good person, Li couldn’t help but tremble every time he saw him; he didn’t experience this physical reaction when facing other Beastmen.

If one were to ask why this was the case, it was likely due to Mang Jiu’s overwhelming presence.

Zhang Shuguang looked at the half-plucked, dead duck the two had left behind with a mix of laughter and exasperation.

It was like they were fleeing for their lives—they didn’t even stop to eat the roast duck they’d been so eager for.

He washed the duck feathers off his hands and stood up to walk out of the cave.

Mang Jiu was a bit puzzled as to why A-Si was here too. It made sense that Li was here, after all, they lived on the same level of the cave.

What he couldn’t figure out was why A-Si was here. He remembered only digging out one pot when he left—how had there suddenly become two stone pots?

This type of stone was too hard for Zhang Shuguang to have carved himself. Had someone else brought a stone pot?

Just as he was pondering this, Zhang Shuguang emerged from the cave.

“You’re back.” Zhang Shuguang scratched his face. 

Noticing the curiosity in his eyes as he looked at the pots, he quickly explained, “The chief gave them to me yesterday. I built a stove—it’s more convenient to have two pots. These wooden basins were given to me by Brother Ying Liu. The oil in the basin is rendered from the fat of the hog beast—a young piglet—that you had someone bring back for me.”

He pointed to the basin of solidified, milky-white oil with a faint greenish tint, then gestured toward the basin of offal. “I’ve already chopped this up. I plan to bury it in the soil on the back mountain. I’ve cleared a patch of land there as an experimental plot for growing vegetables—I’ve already planted three different kinds.”

He pointed to the other two large wooden basins. “This is hog beast meat cured in salt. There was too much for me to eat all at once; it would’ve gone bad and been a waste, so I cured it. After a while, I’ll sun-dry it, and it’ll keep for a long time. The salt was brought by Brother Mang Er.”

After saying this, he looked up at Mang Jiu. The man was staring at him with a rather serious expression. Noticing his gaze, Mang Jiu blinked. 

“Hmm?”

Zhang Shuguang pointed to the dried fish. “I caught this from the pond in the bamboo grove behind the mountain. I also used some of that venison you left behind to pay someone to cut down four bamboo poles for me. That venison was getting a bit stale, so since I didn’t want to eat it, I gave it away to help pay for the bamboo.” 

As he said this, he unconsciously puckered his lips, showing a hint of disdain.

Mang Jiu nodded slightly. “If it’s not fresh, just throw it away.”

“Throwing it away would be a waste. It’s not that bad. I want to use this bamboo to weave a basket,” Zhang Shuguang perked up instantly at Mang Jiu’s words. “I plan to use those snake skins to hang the meat—it’ll make drying it easier later.” He pointed to the several strips of snake skin that Meng Er had tied together.

A cold look flashed in Mang Jiu’s eyes as he asked, “You’re using Meng Er’s skin?”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him expectantly. “Yeah, what’s the problem?”

Mang Jiu said nothing and turned to head down the mountain.

Zhang Shuguang was left completely bewildered. Why did it feel like Mang Jiu was angry? What was there to be angry about? The atmosphere had been pretty good just a moment ago. 

He sighed, unable to fathom how this man’s mind worked. He looked down from the cliff’s edge and saw Mang Jiu walking briskly toward the edge of the tribe. Once he reached the crowded area, Zhang Shuguang could no longer make him out, so he withdrew his gaze, turned around, and went back into the cave to continue plucking duck feathers.

He hadn’t forgotten—he hadn’t even had dinner yet! After the meat had been divided up, there were still a dozen or so beasts left to be distributed. Seeing Mang Jiu approach, Xiong Hong paused and called out, “Mang Jiu, do you want these scales?”

It was largely thanks to Mang Jiu that they’d managed to hunt such a massive terror bird. Without his final stranglehold, they might not all have made it back in one piece.

Mang Jiu had originally intended to say no—he had no use for them—but when he thought of the items Zhang Shuguang had laid out on the ground outside the cave, he nodded involuntarily. “I’ll take them.”

“Alright, then take ten pieces. The rest we’ll split among the rest of us.” Xiong Hong pointed to the scales lying nearby. A total of thirty intact scales had been stripped from this terror bird’s body. Each was roughly two meters square, with smooth curves at the edges. To the touch, they felt cool and weren’t as hard as they looked, but rather had a slight elasticity.

“I’ll take these up for you.” Xiong Bai chuckled as he picked up the scales, turning and running off before Mang Jiu could say a word.

He’d just heard that the Sub-Beastman Mang Jiu had brought back had cooked up something delicious again—he had to go try a bite.

Mang Jiu ignored him and quickly walked out of everyone’s sight.

“Where’s he going?” Xiong Hui called out.

“Probably to soak in the water. He’s always going to take a dip,” Xiong Hong replied casually as he continued distributing meat to the remaining people.

Xiong Hui nodded; that was a possibility.

Zhang Shuguang arranged the potatoes in the cave, then took two bamboo shoots and placed them in an empty wooden basin nearby. He set the remaining eight on top of the potatoes, planning to peel them all after dinner and hang them out to dry.

Having plucked half the duck’s feathers, Zhang Shuguang sighed, stepped out of the cave, and walked over to the cave where they lived. He glanced at Li, who had already returned with the meat. Inside the cave was a middle-aged man who looked quite old; Zhang guessed he was Li’s father.

Nai Dou heard Zhang Shuguang’s footsteps and darted out of the cave. Usually, he would rush straight toward Zhang Shuguang for a hug, but this time, after darting out, he stopped immediately, turned around, and ran back into the cave. Before long, a series of shrill chirps could be heard—the sound was both frightened and angry.

Zhang Shuguang watched as Nai Dou, clutching the intact wing of the little red bird in its mouth, dragged it out of the cave, dragging it along the ground.

“Oh my goodness, be gentle!” Zhang Shuguang’s heart leapt into his throat. He hurried forward two steps, scooped up the little red bird, and cradled it in the palm of his hand.

Nai Dou tilted its head back and meowed, then crouched and leaped upward, clinging to his leather pants as it climbed, scrambling up to his shoulder and settling there.

The little red bird trembled in Zhang Shuguang’s palm, chirping softly. Its wings were wet, and its feathers were stuck together with saliva.“Little one, be gentler with your little sister next time.” Zhang Shuguang gently poked the little red bird’s wing with his finger, then smoothed out its feathers. “Come on, let’s go home with Daddy and eat some meat.”

After saying this, he looked up at Li. “You and A-Si still haven’t finished plucking the duck. Are you two just going to leave it?”

Li let out an “Oh, right, you said you were going to teach us how to roast duck,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I’ll go get A-Si. By the way, is Mang Jiu not in the cave?”

“Mm,” Zhang Shuguang looked at him speechlessly, “Hurry up and get A-Si over here. That duck feather smell is so strong, it’ll give you a headache if you breathe it in too long.”

Li chuckled and ran off to find A-Si.

Zhang Shuguang, cradling the little red bird and carrying the kitten on his shoulder, returned to the cave.

He placed the little red bird in the cat bed made from a giant seashell and gently stroked its little head with his finger. “Poor little thing, you’ll stay with big brother for now. Once your wings are healed and you can fly, Dad will get you a perch.”

The little red bird chirped, its dark beady eyes fixed on him, showing surprisingly little resistance.

She recognized this person’s scent!

Zhang Shuguang picked up Nai Dou and set him down beside them, poking his furry head. “No more licking your little sister!”

Nai Dou rubbed his forehead against the tip of Zhang Shuguang’s finger. “Meow~”

“Meow what? You’ve got eight different meows for every situation,” Zhang Shuguang tapped his forehead. “Remember, no licking your little sister. Her injury hasn’t healed yet.”

Nai Dou leaned in closer, but Zhang Shuguang pushed him away with his forehead.

After two or three repetitions, Nai Dou got the message: Daddy doesn’t want him to lick.

He curled up obediently beside him and gave his big tail a gentle wag.

Zhang Shuguang smiled, bent down, and gave him a kiss. “Good boy, Daddy’s going to roast some duck for you.”

“Meow~~~”

Zhang Shuguang was so charmed by his soft, kitten-like voice that he kissed him several times before finally getting up to wheel the large basin filled with dead ducks out of the den.

By the time A-Si and Li arrived, he had already plucked the feathers from two ducks. He stuffed the feathers into his leather bag—once washed clean, they could be used to make a pillow!

The soft pillow he’d been longing for!

“You should’ve waited for us to help,” Li said, picking up a rock and sitting down beside him, sniffing the air. “It smells awful once the water starts boiling.”

“Do you usually eat meat without the skin?” Zhang Shuguang asked as he plucked the duck feathers.

Li nodded. “Yeah, how can you eat it when the skin is covered in feathers? We just peel off the skin and eat the meat. Besides, the skin is hard to cook, and it burns easily when roasted.”

“What a waste. If you clean it properly, some skins can be quite delicious—especially hog beast skin,” Zhang Shuguang remarked. “Once we’ve processed this hog beast, I’ll cook some for everyone to try.”

Li reflexively started drooling. Lately, whenever Zhang Shuguang mentioned something edible, he’d get an intense craving for it!

A-Si silently plucked the duck feathers. The three of them took turns—one each—working quickly. They didn’t bother with the down that was impossible to remove completely; after all, the fire would burn it all off anyway.

“When are we going to roast them? I’m starving.” Li poured out the dirty water and returned to say to Zhang Shuguang, “I’ll go start the fire!”

“Alright, A-Si, help me. Find a few thick branches and skewer the ducks.” Zhang Shuguang took all the ducks to wash them, cleaning them thoroughly inside and out.

He had originally planned to set aside a few ducks for marinating, but since Mang Jiu had returned, he decided against it—he’d cook them all for Mang Jiu to try.

On his way back from the back mountain, he had pulled up quite a few lemongrass stalks. Now he stuffed them all into the ducks’ bellies, then stuffed the cleaned duck hearts, gizzards, and livers back in as well. He threw the rest into the basin of water.

“How are we going to roast them?” A-Si came over holding a few long branches and split them with a stone knife. “Should we build a rack?”

“I’ll build it. You help me skewer them—push the skewer in through the rear end and out through the beak, two ducks per branch.” Zhang Shuguang used the branches to assemble a simple grill nearby, securing them with vines. He gave it a nudge; it didn’t topple over.

“Li, is the fire ready yet?”

“Coming, coming,” Li said, cradling a bundle of smoking dry grass in his hands. He shuffled over nervously, blowing on the grass as he went. Once a small flame caught, he piled the dry grass into the space beneath the rack. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, find some thick wood—the kind that can withstand the heat.” Zhang Shuguang placed the two ducks, skewered by A Si, over the fire and slowly rotated the skewers to ensure even cooking.

Li leaned in and asked, “This is going to take a long time to cook, isn’t it?”

“Good food is worth the wait.” Zhang Shuguang stood up and set up two more makeshift racks nearby, cooking all three piles of meat at once.

The outer layer quickly turned dry, soft, and discolored from the fire. He used a fish-bone knife to lightly score the skin a few times, signaling for A-Si and Li to do the same.

They roasted by the cliff’s edge, while down below, a bonfire burned, and the tribe gathered around it to roast and eat meat.

“Mang Jiu, what’s this?” Someone in the tribe spotted Mang Jiu returning and froze upon seeing what he was carrying. “Have you shed your skin again?”

Mang Jiu gave a faint “Mm-hmm” and carried a large coil of snake skin up the mountain.

The man who had spoken was startled. He turned to ask the person beside him, “Didn’t Mang Jiu just shed his skin not long ago? How come he’s shedding again?”

“Who knows? Mang Jiu is quite different from the other Beastmen of the Giant Python Clan.”

“Exactly. Look at the other Giant Python Clan members—who goes swimming in the ocean for no reason? Isn’t it said that the Giant Python Clan only sheds its skin once every ten snow seasons? He suddenly shed his skin again—could he be sick?”

“He doesn’t look sick at all. Besides, who could strangle a giant terror bird like that if they were sick? I think he’s just gotten even stronger.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could be that strong, too.”

At the edge of the fourth cliff, Mang Jiu tossed a roll of snake skin at Zhang Shuguang’s feet. Zhang Shuguang froze; when he saw what it was by the light of the fire, his eyes widened instantly.

“What are you doing?!!!”

His voice cracked slightly, betraying his unmasked astonishment.

Chapter 33

No one had expected Mang Jiu’s actions.

Zhang Shuguang’s legs went weak at the sight of the snake skin—which took up an extraordinary amount of space even when rolled up—and his face instantly turned pale.

When he had seen Mang’er bring over the shed skin earlier, he had already steeled himself for it, yet he had still been startled.

Mang Jiu tossed the snake skin right at his feet; the cold, rough yet somewhat supple skin pressed directly against his calf.

And!

This skin was truly a massive, wide roll—at least a foot wider than Mang’er’s!

Even though he’d imagined that Mang Jiu, the tribe’s greatest warrior, would be massive in his beast form, and even though he’d mentally prepared himself countless times ever since learning Mang Jiu belonged to the Giant Python Clan, he never could have imagined that the other party would pull a “skin from out of nowhere” stunt on him without so much as a word of warning!

Should he even thank Mang Jiu for having the sense to roll up such a massive snake skin in advance, rather than smacking it right across his face!

Right now, he just wanted to pass out.

Seeing Zhang Shuguang’s deathly pale face, Mang Jiu furrowed his brow and asked, “Don’t you like it?” If he didn’t like it, why would he use Meng Er’s skin as a rope!

Zhang Shuguang glared at him through gritted teeth. “Did you go out just to find a shed skin?” He clearly remembered Meng Er saying that Mang Jiu’s shed skin had been thrown away.

“No,” Mang Jiu shook his head. His previous shed skin had long since been picked up by someone else; this was the skin he’d just shed. He didn’t want to give the other guy an old one either. “It’s new.”

“New?” Zhang Shuguang looked utterly stunned. “Don’t you only shed your skin once every ten years?” ”

Mang Jiu’s lips curled into a faint smile, his tone indifferent: “That’s true for others.”

Even so, the way he looked, spoke, and carried himself—it sounded and seemed like he was showing off, with a hint of “I shed whenever I want” about it. He was just asking for a punch.

Zhang Shuguang gave a half-hearted nod and praised him, “You’re amazing.”

Mang Jiu puffed out his chest and lifted his head, his gaze sweeping back and forth over Mang Er’s shed skin. Finally, he couldn’t help but speak up: “I’ve swapped out my skin—mine works better.”

Without waiting for Zhang Shuguang to react, he bent down to pick up the snake skin and walked over to the stone wall. First, he yanked off Meng Er’s skin, then began tearing at his own shed skin.

The rustling sound sent shivers down Zhang Shuguang’s spine, layer by layer. Not only was he uncomfortable, but even A-Si and Li felt particularly uneasy.

A-Si shifted closer to Zhang Shuguang, stole a quick glance at Mang Jiu—who was tying the snake skin to a bamboo pole—and whispered, “He’s upset, isn’t he?”

Zhang Shuguang raised his right eyebrow in confusion. What did she mean?

A-Si gave him a look, gesturing for him to watch what Mang Jiu was doing right now.

“You used Meng Er’s snake skin, and he wasn’t happy about it, so he replaced it with his own.”

Zhang Shuguang: “Huh… huh?”

“Are you saying he shed his skin because he was upset?”

A Si: “Why are you so fixated on whether he shed his skin or not? Didn’t you understand what I said?”

“I get it. He was upset that I used Mang Er’s snake skin, so he shed his own skin to replace Mang Er’s.” Zhang Shuguang flipped through the branches, making small cuts on the duck’s body with his fishbone knife. “What part didn’t I get?”

A-Si pressed her hand to her chest and cast a sympathetic glance at Mang Jiu’s retreating figure.

I finally found a Sub-Beastman I liked, and it turns out he’s a slowpoke.

Can’t handle him, can’t handle him.

Zhang Shuguang really wasn’t trying to twist the meaning on purpose; it was just that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Mang Jiu might be jealous.

After all, that snake skin belonged to Mang Jiu’s second-oldest brother. The rope made from it was tied by Meng Er himself, and it was also torn open by Meng Er. He had merely given it a very, very light touch with his fingertips when he first saw it—that was truly all.

So he assumed that if Mang Jiu was upset, it was because he was upset that Meng’er’s skin had been used by him, not because he had used Meng’er’s skin.

A-Si shook her head slightly, made a few cuts on the duck with her fishbone knife, and decisively dropped the subject. “How long will it take to roast?”

“Brush on the brine I made.” Zhang Shuguang handed them both small brushes made from prickly grass, taking one for himself as well. He used the sharp spines to poke, poke, poke, poke, poke into the meat. After poking countless tiny holes, he dipped a feather from a cleaned duck wing into the brine and brushed it evenly over the meat, coat after coat.

“Is that enough? The aroma is already quite strong.” Li’s eyes were wide with focus as he stared intently at the two ducks he was roasting, afraid that if he wasn’t careful, he might not flip them properly and burn them.

Zhang Shuguang cut a small piece of meat from the breast to taste it. The saltiness was just right, and the meat was so tender! It had none of the tough, stringy texture typical of breast meat.

He then used a bone knife to make a small incision deeper into the meat, scooped out a bit to taste, and found that although the salt hadn’t fully penetrated, it was already cooked through.

“Mine’s done. You guys should try yours too. If it’s not cooked, just roast it a bit longer.” After speaking, he stood up and walked toward the cliff edge, holding a branch. Mang Jiu was sitting there, watching the kitten playing with the giant boar beast at his feet.

Hearing his footsteps, Mang Jiu turned to look at him and pointed at Nai Dou, “It’s fat.”

Zhang Shuguang chuckled, pulled the lemongrass and innards out of the duck’s belly, tore a thigh off the duck and placed it in Nai Dou’s stone bowl, then tore another one for himself, giving the rest to Mang Jiu. “Eating three meals a day—either fish or hog beast meat—is bound to make him fat. I’ve named him Nai Dou.”

Mang Jiu took the branch, blew on the roasted duck—which gave off a distinctive aroma—then lowered his head and took a bite. “Delicious.”

Zhang Shuguang particularly loved watching him eat the food he’d prepared. His movements weren’t rough, yet he ate quickly, looking thoroughly satisfied. It made anyone watching him eat instinctively take a few extra bites themselves.

To put it simply, it was the kind of food that goes down a treat.

“Meow~” Nai Dou found the duck leg too hot, circled around it once, then ran into the cave.

Seeing him bolt, Zhang Shuguang knew exactly what he was up to without even thinking about it. He quickly called out, “Nai Dou, stop right there! Don’t you dare drag my little sister out!”

Mang Jiu, who had been gnawing on meat, looked up. Little sister?

A slightly ingratiating smile played at the corners of Zhang Shuguang’s mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Go ahead.”

“This morning, when we went to catch ducks, um, Nai Dou found a young Phoenix Clan chick in the bushes over there and brought it back. It’s a little girl. Well, Nai Dou is a boy—that’s how we call him around here; it sounds better than ‘with or without a testicle.’” Zhang Shuguang stole a glance at Mang Jiu’s expression. Seeing no change, he hesitated before speaking: “She’s so tiny, she won’t take up much space. Why don’t we raise her?”

Mang Jiu popped a duck breast directly into his mouth, chewing the meat and bone until it crunched loudly.

Zhang Shuguang watched his mouth move, listened to the crunching sounds, and felt a slight breeze on his skin; the cold made him shiver.

Mang Jiu swallowed the meat in his mouth and gave a soft “mm-hmm.”

Zhang Shuguang thought he’d misheard, so he shifted forward and leaned in closer. “You agreed, didn’t you? You just said ‘mm-hmm’?”

Mang Jiu was amused by the unmasked (☆▽☆) look of anticipation on his face. The corner of his grease-smeared mouth curled up slightly. “Mm.”

“I’ll show you. She’s really pretty.” Zhang Shuguang grabbed a duck leg and ran into the cave. When he came out, he was holding the little red bird in his other hand; its black beady eyes were both curious and wary.

Mang Jiu turned to look, and the little red bird’s body trembled. It froze stiffly, then toppled over!

Zhang Shuguang jumped in surprise. “Kid?! What’s wrong?!”

Li and A-Si had been watching them from the side. Seeing the little red bird collapse the moment Mang Jiu glanced at it, they simply couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Li covered her mouth and laughed so hard her whole body shook, while A-Si choked on a piece of meat and pounded his chest twice. He nearly choked to death.

“Meow, meow!!” Nai Dou stopped gnawing on the duck leg and rushed over, meowing anxiously nonstop.

Mang Jiu said, “It got scared.”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him. “Huh?”

Mang Jiu continued eating his meat, his tone flat. “I’m not a picky eater.”

Zhang Shuguang stared at him wide-eyed. Not picky? He meant it the way Zhang Shuguang understood it—so unpicky that he’d eat anything edible.

“You, you, you, you wouldn’t…” He swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t actually try to swallow this little bird whole, would you?”

Mang Jiu paused, his eyes filled with exasperation. “I don’t eat people.”

“But you said you’re not picky!” Zhang Shuguang held the duck leg up to the little red bird’s beak and looked at Mang Jiu. “We’ve got plenty to eat here. Don’t scare her—she’s still just a baby!”

Even though the little red bird was frightened, it didn’t forget to open its beak for food. It took small pecks, eating several bites before shaking itself and standing up again.

Zhang Shuguang let out a sigh of relief and said to Mang Jiu, “Be gentle. This is going to be our little one from now on!”

Mang Jiu: “……” He couldn’t actually give birth to such a red little one, but those words made him feel inexplicably happy inside.

Zhang Shuguang didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d said; since they were living together and raising the chick, it was naturally their child.

Li, standing nearby, widened his eyes and slowly turned to look at A Si.

A-Si raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, it means exactly what you’re thinking.

Li’s eyes grew even wider.

Seeing that the little red bird’s body wasn’t as stiff as before, Zhang Shuguang set her down by the stove and placed the duck leg in the large seashell for the two little ones to eat.

He sat down by the fire to continue roasting the duck, his eyes fixed on the few scales that Xiong Bai had just brought over.

Earlier, having suddenly discovered a problem with himself, he’d been too furious and shocked to give the game brought back by Mang Jiu and the others a second glance. So he didn’t know exactly what was there—he only vaguely remembered seeing a large object surrounded by a group of people.

Now, seeing these pieces of scaly armor, his curiosity was piqued.

He turned to ask Mang Jiu, “What kind of beast is this from?”

“A terror bird,” Mang Jiu replied tersely. “It’s huge.”

Zhang Shuguang nodded, thinking to himself that it was indeed huge—and not only large, but likely quite hard as well.

He stood up and walked over to tap them. To his surprise, they didn’t feel as hard as he’d expected; instead, they had a certain flexibility to them and felt cool to the touch.

He narrowed his eyes, glanced at the fire, then fetched a thick, burning branch. He pressed the flaming end against the scale plate and found the fire went out almost immediately.

“Fire-resistant?”

Mang Jiu hummed in acknowledgment. “It doesn’t burn.” After saying this, he seemed to remember something, got up, and went down the mountain. When he returned, he was holding the sharp spike he’d pulled from the terror bird’s tail.

Someone had borrowed this spike to examine it when he’d first come up the mountain. The others in the tribe hadn’t seen it before and were quite curious, but he’d only just now remembered to ask for it back.

“Here, take this.” He handed the spike to Zhang Shuguang.

“It’s so heavy.” Zhang Shuguang reached out to take it with one hand but nearly dropped it. He quickly cradled it in both hands and examined it closely, noticing that the spike didn’t feel like bone but had a slightly metallic texture. “Is this also from the terror bird?”

“Right, a spike from its tail—just this one.” Mang Jiu sat back down and leisurely ate the last two bites of duck meat.

Zhang Shuguang gave a soft “Oh.” The spike was as long as his arm, with a razor-sharp tip and a smooth, conical shaft.

“What’s it good for?” He felt the weight of the thing was a burden to him; it wasn’t suitable to carry around as a weapon, not nearly as convenient as his collection of fishbone knives of various lengths.

A-Si finished eating, wiped his hands, and walked over. He picked it up with one hand and swung it a couple of times. “I’ve seen weapons made from spikes like this,” he gestured, “with a wooden shaft attached to extend it.”

Zhang Shuguang raised an eyebrow. Adding a wooden shaft did make it resemble a spear, but he wasn’t very familiar with how to use spears. Besides, multiple wooden shafts would make it heavier, which would be a struggle for a Sub-Beastman to wield, though it might work for a full-blooded Beastman. However, since Beastmen usually went out in beast form to hunt, a spear would actually be a useless burden to them.

He thought for a moment, then carried the spiked stick over to the section of scale armor that had been struck by the fire stick earlier. He stood it upright and let go.

With a thud, the spike pierced through the scale armor and sank firmly into the ground.

His eyes lit up. “I know how to use this!”

Everyone looked at him.

Zhang Shuguang chuckled. “Just stick it straight into the ground with the tip pointing up. It’ll make it much easier for me to poke holes in things whenever I need to.”

He had plenty of projects to tackle, and he’d always need to poke holes to thread ropes through for fastening. Sometimes, when dealing with thicker hides, using his fishbone knife required quite a bit of effort—but this would certainly make things easier.

With that in mind, he went into the cave and fetched a piece of shark skin left over from making straw sandals. Turning to Mang Jiu, he said, “Can you help me drive this into the rock? Point it upward.”

Mang Jiu nodded, stood up, and pulled the spike out. He then found a relatively flat rock and swung his fist, driving the base of the spike directly into the stone.

No one knew how he managed it, but the spike stood upright in the stone—and the stone didn’t even shatter.

Zhang Shuguang gave him a thumbs-up. “Impressive, strongman.”

He walked over holding the shark skin. Though the skin was quite thin, it was exceptionally tough; earlier, when he’d tried piercing it with the fishbone knife, it had taken a lot of force.

He stretched the skin open with both hands, then placed it over the spike and pressed down gently.

With a soft hissing sound, a small, perfectly round hole instantly appeared in the skin—much neater than the one he’d made with the bone knife! And it required absolutely no effort!

“Huh? Can I poke a hole in wood, too?” Li picked up a small wooden board, raised his hand, and slammed it down against the spike. With a soft thud, a hole appeared instantly. He picked up the board and examined it. “If I use a little more force, the hole will be bigger.” After saying that, he struck it again, creating a larger hole right next to the small one.

The hole made by the spike was surprisingly smooth, with hardly any rough edges. Zhang Shuguang touched it curiously and found it wasn’t particularly prickly.

“It works pretty well.” He looked up at Mang Jiu and smiled. “Thanks.”

Mang Jiu raised an eyebrow slightly. “You eat. I’ll handle the grilling.”

He wasn’t one for words; even if he wanted to say something, he wouldn’t know how. Seeing that Zhang Shuguang had been busy for a while but had only taken a couple of bites, he took the initiative to sit down in front of the makeshift grill. He’d watched for a moment earlier to see how to rotate the branches, and he’d picked it up.

Zhang Shuguang carried the stones into the cave and placed them against the cave wall. Just then, A-Si and Li came over to say goodbye to him.

“Shuguang, what are you going to do tomorrow?” Li asked as he was leaving.

Zhang Shuguang nodded toward the bamboo lying on the ground. “I’m going to use this bamboo to weave baskets and lids. Didn’t you say you wanted to learn how to weave straw sandals? If you don’t go out to gather materials, you can come over.” ” He reached back, picked up a large conch shell, scooped a few spoonfuls of congealed hog beast meat from the wooden basin with a stone spoon, placed it inside, and handed it to A Si. “We’ll need to water the experimental field first thing tomorrow morning.”

A-Si reached out to take it and said, “Thanks. Got it. Should I wake you up tomorrow?”

“No need,” Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. “I’ll just go over there. If you’re heading that way early, wait for me. Pull out any weeds in the vegetable patches.”

“Alright, I have a small stone bucket I can use,” A-Si replied, patting Li’s shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m heading back first.”

Li waved to Zhang Shuguang and left with A Si.

Zhang Shuguang returned to sit beside Mang Jiu. He glanced at the two little ones, whose bellies were already round from eating, and reached out to scoop them both into his arms.

Nai Dou was sprawled across his lap, and the little red bird was perched on Nai Dou’s furry head. With its golden eyes and tiny black beak, it stared intently at Zhang Shuguang.

He chuckled softly, running his fingers through the two little ones’ fur. “Let’s give the little sister a name!”

Mang Jiu twirled the twig in his hand and turned his head at the suggestion. “Hmm?”

“Let’s call her Tangdou,” Zhang Shuguang said with a smile, gently patting the little red bird’s head. “Brother is Nai Dou, and sister is Tangdou—both sweet as candy.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Whatever you decide is fine.”

Zhang Shuguang’s eyes crinkled with amusement. He liked the way the other let him make all the decisions. “Are you going hunting again tomorrow?”

“No,” Mang Jiu said, running his bone knife over the duck meat a couple of times. “The meat we brought back will feed the tribe for a few days.”

“You brought back that much meat, and it’ll only last a few days?” Zhang Shuguang was taken aback.

Even if he hadn’t seen exactly how much they’d brought back, he could tell from those ten scales just how massive the body of that beast—the so-called “Teratorix”—must have been. That much meat… and the game Bear Ash had sent back had only just been distributed; there was no way they’d finish it that quickly.

“If we don’t eat it quickly, it’ll go bad.” Mang Jiu sighed helplessly. There was no way to preserve the meat for long; to prevent it from spoiling, they had to eat as much as they could. When he’d gone down to retrieve the spines earlier, he’d seen quite a few Beastmen carrying meat out of the tribe—they were planning to shift into beast form and devour it all at once.

Zhang Shuguang scratched his chin, lifted the two cubs he was holding, and placed them on Mang Jiu’s lap. He paid no mind to the fact that both the older and younger cubs had instantly gone stiff, but instead said to Mang Jiu, “Wait a moment. I’ll get something to show you.”

Mang Jiu lowered his gaze to the cubs in his arms. Tangdou was so nervous she couldn’t even tremble, while Nai Dou was a bit better—she was twitching her whiskers and tilting her little furry head back. The Tangdou on top of her head rolled right off her furry head.

No one had anticipated this turn of events. Tangdou was startled and immediately flapped her tiny wings, but since she was now half-crippled, her flapping was of little use.

Nai Dou let out a meow. Mang Jiu reached out to catch Tangdou and gently placed her back on Nai Dou’s back.

The two little ones looked at Mang Jiu, one meowing, the other chirping.

Mang Jiu raised an eyebrow and gently poked each of their soft, plump bellies with his fingers. “You’ve eaten quite a bit.”

Nai Dou swished his big tail and stuck out his little tongue to lick Mang Jiu’s fingertip in a bid to please him.

Dad doesn’t seem so scary after all!

Mang Jiu had no idea that, in Nai Dou’s mind, he had already taken on the role of a father! Anyone who’s with Dad is Dad!

Zhang Shuguang quickly produced a conch shell. It wasn’t very large—about the size of two palms—and was considerably smaller than the ones he’d used before, but it was perfect for holding salt; the shell was smooth and wouldn’t tip over.

“Take a look at this.” He handed the conch shell to Mang Jiu.

Mang Jiu gestured for him to take the two cubs away. Zhang Shuguang chuckled softly, reached out to pick the cubs up from his lap, and then used his fishbone knife to cut a piece of duck meat to eat.

Mang Jiu pinched a bit of fine salt from the conch shell. He examined it in the firelight, paused in surprise, rubbed it between his fingers, sniffed it, and then licked it.

“Salt?” Unlike the slightly bitter salt they usually ate, this salt was very salty and had a distinct taste of seawater.

“Made from seawater?”

Zhang Shuguang praised his sharpness. “No wonder—someone who’s always out by the sea is different. He really knows the taste of seawater inside out.”

He smiled and pointed. “I boiled seawater into salt blocks, then crushed them to make this fine salt. But there are still impurities in it, and the concentration isn’t quite right. If you filter it a few more times, the salt will be saltier and more refreshing.” He couldn’t say there was any harm in eating this unfiltered salt directly—after all, the people here ate salt blocks every day and were in great health.

“Does the Chief know?” Mang Jiu pinched a bit of salt and sprinkled it on the roasted duck, then turned to look at Zhang Shuguang. “Did you go to the beach with the Chief?”

“Yeah, along with Shaman Wu and Xi San. The four of us went together. We boiled two stone tubs of seawater and only got this one block of salt,” Zhang Shuguang gestured with both hands. “Boiling salt is too slow. I figured if we could lay rocks from the hot cave on the ground, then boil them while letting them dry in the sun, we could get salt much faster on a good day. Plus, we can filter the seawater with grass—filtering it a few times makes the seawater more concentrated, which means the salt will taste better.”

He spoke and gestured at the same time, hoping Mang Jiu would understand.

Mang Jiu got it. He’d been to the hot rock cave; the temperature there was extremely high, and the rocks were scorching to the touch. Using them to evaporate seawater was indeed a good idea.

“When do you want to go to the hot rock cave?”

Zhang Shuguang hadn’t expected him to be so direct; he was a bit taken aback.

Mang Jiu said matter-of-factly, “I’ve been gone for a few days, and you’ve made so much of this stuff—there probably isn’t much salt left, is there?”

Zhang Shuguang pursed his lips. It wasn’t just that there wasn’t much left—if he hadn’t wanted to show Mang Jiu the sea salt he’d made, there wouldn’t have been a single grain left.

Mang Jiu reached out and ruffled his messy hair, his tone tinged with a smile. “I’ll help you water the fields after sunrise. Let’s go right after we eat.”

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. “No need to rush. I still have to weave bamboo baskets tomorrow, and these bamboo stalks are just blocking the way here. Besides, the chieftain has already sent the tribe’s Beastmen to the coast to boil salt.”

Mang Jiu nodded. “Alright, just let me know when you want to go.”

Zhang Shuguang smiled broadly, his mood clearly lifted. “You’re just taking my word for it? What if I can’t produce any more salt?”

“You won’t fail,” Mang Jiu said, noticing the dimple that appeared on his cheek as he smiled. He couldn’t resist reaching out to poke it. “You can do it.”

Zhang Shuguang quickly stopped smiling and covered his face. “Don’t poke my dimple.”

Whenever he laughed, a faint dimple would appear on his left cheek. It rarely showed up during polite smiles, but when he laughed heartily, openly, and sincerely, the little dimple would emerge. Those who knew him well understood that whenever Zhang Shuguang’s dimple appeared, it meant his smile was genuine—not just a fake, forced mask.

Mang Jiu didn’t know what the dimple meant; he just thought that little indentation was especially cute. “It’s really pretty.”

Zhang Shuguang blinked, a rush of heat rising to his face, turning it crimson in an instant.

“You, you, you—don’t say things like that!”

Mang Jiu tilted his head. “Hm?”

Zhang Shuguang took a deep breath, hugged the two little ones in his arms, stood up, and headed toward the cave. “Time for bed. I’m so sleepy!”

Mang Jiu glanced at the roasted duck hanging from a branch and sighed. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

Zhang Shuguang stopped in his tracks, turned his head, and shouted in frustration and embarrassment, “I said the kids are going to sleep!”

After shouting, he turned and ran; the distance of just a few steps had him sprinting at a hundred-meter dash pace.

He placed Nai Dou and Tang Dou in the nest made from a giant conch shell, then exhaled deeply and patted his flushed face.

What a nutcase—why on earth was he getting embarrassed?

He paced around the cave several times until the heat had subsided considerably before going out to eat the roasted duck.

Mang Jiu had already extinguished the fire and cleaned up the embers. He was holding two roasted ducks, waiting for Zhang Shuguang to come eat.

“Go wash up and go to bed. I’ll eat this myself.” Zhang Shuguang snatched the two ducks from his hands. “Go on, go on.”

Mang Jiu wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly gotten annoyed, but he was obedient. He stood up to wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he used to live alone, he didn’t have this habit at all, but after seeing Zhang Shuguang do this twice—both before bed and upon waking—he’d picked it up too.

Zhang Shuguang exhaled as he watched him leave.

He’d eaten just one roast duck and was already stuffed to the brim; he placed the remaining one in the stone pot, then lifted a scale plate to cover it and keep the dust out.

Not having a lid was really inconvenient. He absolutely had to make one tomorrow; even if he couldn’t weave, he could just wrap some vines around it.

He didn’t feel like turning on his phone to watch videos and learn how to weave bamboo crafts. Since the phone’s battery would last a while, he might as well turn it off for some peace and quiet.

Just thinking about the strange things that had happened to him made him feel down again.

If it weren’t for the videos and photos of his family still on the phone, he’d really want to drain the battery completely!

“Aren’t you going to sleep yet?” Mang Jiu stood beside him, holding a wooden basin filled with clean water. “Wash up here.”

Zhang Shuguang thanked him, then suddenly recalled the legend of the Beast God from the prologue of the original book and asked, “Do you believe in the existence of the Beast God?” Although he had witnessed Wu Ming using his magical power to start a fire, he didn’t rule out the possibility of psychics existing in this world; after all, he had seen people in modern society capable of doing things others couldn’t. like moving objects from a distance with their minds, or the way they handled the steel spoon.

Although Wu Ming’s magical power was more extraordinary, it didn’t strike him as entirely unbelievable.

But the Beast God mentioned in the prologue was different, as were the abilities Aila had inexplicably acquired, and the death of the minor character—or rather, his other self.

Mang Jiu stared at him for a moment, then said calmly, “When I pulled you out of the sea, you weren’t breathing.”

Zhang Shuguang was startled. “What?”

Mang Jiu paused to recall the events, then spoke briefly: “Your body wasn’t limp, and you weren’t breathing. I laid you on the sand to dig a grave, but then you suddenly twitched.”

That day, Mang Jiu had actually been startled himself. He’d been swimming comfortably in the sea when, out of nowhere, something fell from the sky into the water—it nearly hit him. Only upon getting a closer look did he realize it was a person. He dragged the man ashore. At the time, Zhang Shuguang’s body was half-rigid, his chest showed no sign of rising or falling, and his face was a pale blue tinged with purple—it was clear he was already dead.

Mang Jiu couldn’t possibly leave the body on the shore to be devoured by wild beasts, so he decided to dig a hole in the woods and bury the body there, giving it a proper resting place.

But the moment he turned around and took just a couple of steps, the body suddenly stirred. A leg shot up and then dropped back down, the chest began to rise and fall, and a faint moan escaped the lips.

To be honest, this was the first time Mang Jiu had encountered such a situation, and for a split second, his scalp prickled with fear.

However, as the man regained his breath, his complexion gradually shifted from a mixture of blue, white, and purple back to a healthy white, so Mang Jiu brought him back.

He took Zhang Shuguang straight back to the cave without letting Ying Cao see him. To his surprise, after just one night, the man had completely returned to normal—not a single trace of abnormality remained, and his once-pale complexion had even gained a hint of color.

Zhang Shuguang’s hair stood on end.

Was he faking his death?

Seeing his expression shift repeatedly, Mang Jiu raised a hand to rest against his cheek. “No one else knows.” If Zhang Shuguang hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t have told a soul.

“…Have you always suspected there was something wrong with me?” Zhang Shuguang knew full well that his every word and deed differed greatly from those of the tribe. Although Mang Jiu hadn’t known him for long, he was intelligent—it was impossible for him not to notice Zhang Shuguang’s uniqueness.

Mang Jiu gave a faint nod. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

He hadn’t answered the question about the Beast God, but Zhang Shuguang sensed that Meng Jiu believed his resurrection must have been a blessing from the Beast God.

He exhaled slowly, lowered his head, and whispered, “Thank you.” This was actually for the best; it spared him the trouble of explaining.

This time, his thanks came from the heart. After all, after learning of the subtle connection between the minor character and himself, Mang Jiu had saved him on a whim—but it was the real, genuine him.

As for why he and the minor character were the same person, there was likely no way to verify that now; to find out, he’d have to follow the original story’s plot.

Since he didn’t feel like dealing with Xiao Cai lately, he put that question on indefinite hold.

As long as he’s alive, that’s all that matters. Everything else can wait.

Having come to terms with it, he took a deep breath and looked up at Mang Jiu. “Let’s go to sleep. We’ll water the fields tomorrow morning!”

A faint smile touched Mang Jiu’s lips. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

Zhang Shuguang smiled in response. “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll tidy up a bit and then turn in too.”

Early the next morning, Zhang Shuguang sat on the stone slab with dark circles under his eyes, cracking his stiff neck.

“I’ve got to get a new pillow!” He’d washed the duck feathers yesterday and hung them out to dry. He’d make a pillowcase out of some animal hide later—it didn’t matter if it got hot; it was better than sleeping on a rock every night.

Mang Jiu came in from outside the cave, holding a large stone axe. “How should I cut up the giant boar beast I brought back yesterday?”

Zhang Shuguang looked at him blankly. It took him a while to process what the other man had said. He yawned, scratched his head, and stepped out of the cave. “I want to keep the hide. Just scrape off all this long fur, save it, wash it clean—it’ll be great for filtering seawater.” The fur on these giant boar beasts was at least a foot long, with each strand distinct. “Use the bone knife to scrape it off; it’ll be easier.”

Mang Jiu said nothing. He traded the large stone axe for the small bone knife and began scraping the fur.

He placed the scraped-off long hairs into an empty basin. Zhang Shuguang noticed that the basin was new. He turned his head to look at the spot where a few pieces of wood had been lying earlier; the wood was gone, replaced by three wooden basins stacked on top of each other, with quite a few wood shavings scattered on the ground.

“When did you get up? “That was way too fast—he’d barely finished speaking before Mang Jiu had already dug out the basin!”

Mang Jiu: “I got up at first light. I heard them say you wanted to carve a basin from water-grown wood, so I carved it.”

“Thank you!” Zhang Shuguang clasped his hands together and bowed deeply to Mang Jiu. “You’re a lifesaver—you really are my savior.”

Mang Jiu: “You go cook.”

Zhang Shuguang cheerfully agreed, went into the cave to fetch the bamboo shoots, peeled them, and soaked them in water, then went to peel the potatoes. “Let’s take apart the duck and make soup. I have a leftover roast duck from yesterday.”

“Alright.” Mang Jiu wasn’t hungry. Although the giant boar beast he’d eaten earlier had already been digested, he still felt full, and besides, he’d eaten several roast ducks last night.

Zhang Shuguang cut up the duck, tossing both the meat and bones into the pot to simmer, then added the bamboo shoots and potatoes.

“You’ve never eaten bamboo shoots before, have you?”

“I’ve seen them, but never eaten them.” Mang Jiu worked quickly; he’d already stripped the fur off half the hog beast, though plenty of hair remained stuck to the skin.

After lighting the fire, Zhang Shuguang leaned in to feel the skin. The individual hair roots were quite stiff. “If only there were some glue, I could just pull them right off.”

“Glue?” Mang Jiu looked puzzled.

Zhang Shuguang: “It’s that sticky stuff—it gets hard once it dries.” He pointed to the hair roots on the hide. “Smear it on the hide, let it dry, then peel it off. That should pull all these hair roots right out.”

Mang Jiu thought for a moment and asked, “Is it white?”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Earlier in the coastal forest, on that big leaf you used to wrap the grilled fish—when you cut open the tree trunk, there was a milky-white sap.” Mang Jiu said, “It’s hard to wash off your hands.”

“Really?” Zhang Shuguang exclaimed with delight. “There are banana trees right behind the mountain!”

“Banana trees?” Mang Jiu was quite impressed by his ability to name things; they never gave names to various objects, and sometimes just called them whatever came to mind.

Zhang Shuguang waved his hand. He only knew that rubber trees could be tapped for sap; he had no idea that banana trees could produce it too. It must be another kind of mutant plant. “Let’s go check it out later. If we can get some sap, we’ll be able to make all sorts of things in the future!”

Like the lid he wanted to make!

Mang Jiu nodded, speeding up his work.

Zhang Shuguang put all the ingredients into the pot to simmer, and a simple breakfast was ready.

After eating, Zhang Shuguang picked up the basin of offal, which was already emitting a horrendous stench, and held his breath to keep from gagging.

Seeing this, Meng Jiu reached out to take it. “Let me handle this.”

“No need, the smell is too strong.” He pulled his hand back slightly, but Mang Jiu still managed to take the basin away.

“I’m faster. You just hold onto the other things.” With that, Mang Jiu walked off carrying the basin.

But just as he reached the bottom of the slope, he spotted Tian Lu coming up from below.

Seeing the unmistakable look of delight on Mang Jiu’s face, Tian Lu ran up in a few strides. Just as he was about to enthusiastically shout “Brother Jiu,” he was hit head-on by the stench wafting toward him.

“Jiu~ Ugh!!”

“It stinks!!”

Zhang Shuguang, following behind Mang Jiu, witnessed this dramatic scene.

That was truly… so rude!

How could he just run off without even saying hello!

He stood before Tianlu with a smile and said, “Sorry about that. That’s the fertilizer I use for farming—it doesn’t smell too great.”

Tian Lu’s face turned pale; the stench hitting him head-on made him retch several times, his eyes reddening.

Zhang Shuguang nodded at him and followed Mang Jiu down the mountain. “Take it easy—don’t spill it!”

If it spilled, everyone on the mountain would be so overwhelmed by the stench they wouldn’t be able to eat for days.

Tianlu’s eyes were red as he glared angrily at the two figures walking one in front of the other.

Aaaah, my Brother Jiu!